On Fake Flowers

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Every April
after the snow melts
and the ground
has dried up
my mother and I
do our yard work.

This year
she mentions using
fake flowers
her back is
too bad
to do this again
next year.

She says this
as I pull with
bare hands
and deadhead
dry hosta stalks
to make room
for the sprouting
purple buds hiding
beneath its brush.

She says this
as the shade thriving
clumping lily root
reveals four
sunshine golden
mystery snails.
Their bodies
briefly visible
are pearly white
as they catch
the light.